Good Night
by MandyQ
Summary: Immediate follow up to "Night Like Another". Lucius is home from prison and finally back in his own bed. You do the math... Lucius/Narcissa rated M for a reason. OneShot. TDH compliant. HBP,TDH spoilers. Please R&R.


DISCLAIMER: these people are not mine. I kidnapped them so that they could have a little fun and I swear to return them to JK Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers in slightly better condition than I found them in and to do so without having made a red cent off of their bliss. Please don't sue me; I meant no harm AND I made no money.

A/N: Feburuary is smut month for me; I will only be posting stories rated M and this is the first. I am learning how to write the juicy bits and so here begins the juice...

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Lucius tiptoed through the pitch darkness, a strange feeling of hyper-awareness nagging at the back of his mind. He had lived in this house all of his life and yet somehow his absence of a year had made the place foreign to him. The carpets felt strange beneath his feet and even the smells of mahogany, incense, and candle wax had become unfamiliar. He just couldn't relax.

A year in Azkaban; thirteen and a half months to be exact. Perhaps the time in that dank and fetid hell on earth had robbed him forever of his ability to relax. The world at large now seemed as uncomfortable as his tiny cell had been. He had hardly the mental acuity to rejoice at his newfound freedom. His inexplicable freedom….

Lord Voldemort had wished Lucius Malfoy freed and so he was free. He had even allowed Lucius to bring his son home; his son who had been at the Dark Lord's immediate beck and call for more than a month. But Draco was well; a little worse for the wear, surely, but well. Voldemort himself would be coming here tomorrow. Perhaps that knowledge also contributed to Lucius' inability to find comfort here tonight. His home had been his place of safety and of sanctuary and that was to be no more- beginning tomorrow. He was home, but home was not home any more.

Tonight he would need to collect himself, center himself, prepare himself for whatever role the Dark Lord intended for him in the upcoming weeks and months. Their side surely must be winning, or else there would have been no escape from Azkaban, but something in the way the Dark Lord had addressed him tonight told Lucius to be more wary than he had been in the past.

And the morning would come, Lucius knew, whether he wanted it to or not and with it would come the Dark Lord and whatever He brought along with him. Hoping for the best had never been a strategy that Lucius Malfoy had espoused; hope was not a plan. And hope had been a thing altogether absent from his prison of the last thirteen months. But Lucius knew that he had only tonight to find hope somewhere inside of himself or else perhaps go mad.

He fought the urge to light his wand as he made his way from the private library toward the small stairs that would lead him to the master suite. There were portraits who might wish to scold or to congratulate were they to be awakened and Lucius was in no mood to abide either. Better the portraiture remain asleep. It was very late.

He had returned home briefly earlier in the evening, hoping to steal a moment with Narcissa between his rescue from Azkaban and his attendance at the Dark Lord's behest. He had found her in the small library and had told her of his plan to return home with Draco before night's end. She hadn't been waiting for them when they arrived.

Lucius wondered if she had given up any faith she'd had in him, or maybe she too, had written off hoping for things. It was likely that she'd written him of entirely. She had seemed pleased enough to see him earlier, but he knew that had she any real belief in Draco's return that she'd have waited up.

He tiptoed down the hall at the top of the stairs and pushed lightly against the door to the bedroom. If Narcissa had locked it, he'd leave to sleep elsewhere. Lucius was pleased to find that the door hadn't even been pulled to, much less locked, and he quietly stepped inside the darkened chamber.

It wasn't quite as dark in the bedroom as it had been in the hallway and on the stairs. The moon was shining in through the sheers on the open doors to the patio. It was a warm night, and Narcissa liked sleeping with the doors open when she could. Lucius found a smile when he caught sight of his wife, asleep in their bed as though nothing was wrong in the world.

His bed, with his sleeping wife in it, was the single most inviting thing that Lucius could ever remember having beheld. He didn't dare to just climb into it and fall asleep, though. He needed to shower; badly. And he wasn't going to spend another minute in these clothes.

Prior to his incarceration, Lucius had prided himself on his immaculate grooming. But in Azkaban there were no showers. From Azkaban, he and his rescuers had gone to a little house in Spinner's End and he had been given only a few minutes to change into clothes that Severus had lent to him. And although he had managed to shave and had cleaned himself with a spell at the time, he still felt grubby. There was a very good chance that he could bathe for the next three days on end and not feel completely clean, but he couldn't fathom the thought of lying down beside his wife without a long, hot shower first.

Lucius was careful to be quiet as he crept across his bedroom toward the open door to the bathroom. Part of him wanted nothing more than to watch Narcissa sleeping, but he had to watch where he was going lest he trip and make enough noise to wake her. He slipped into the bathroom and carefully closed the door behind him. Finally, he let himself pull out his wand and flicked it once above his head, bringing the lights up to full. His eyes hadn't seen so much light in more than a year, but he toughed it out and waited for them to adjust rather than lowering the light level. It would be time to face the light soon enough and he might as well start working at normalcy now.

Narcissa and Draco would need him to be well and normal in the morning. Well and normal; had he ever been so? Lucius loved his family and he knew that he would have to make them believe that all was as it should be or else subject them to worry and fear the likes of which they did not deserve. Then again, they hadn't deserved any of what had been meted out to them over the past year. That was going to have to change. He would do better by them if it killed him.

Lucius placed his wand in the purpose-built holder beside the door and crossed intently to the marble shower stall. He could feel the tension beginning to seep out of him as soon as the steamy water began to flow. His soap and shampoo were still on the shelf, waiting for him like any other day; that made him smile a little. There had been gingersnap cookies in the library as well; it seemed as though Narcissa had made the elves continue to run the house in his absence as though nothing was different.

He loved that woman. He had loved her for more than two decades and there was nothing more important to him than that. Lucius tugged on the buttons of his borrowed shirt, catching his reflection in the mirror as he did. He frowned at himself. How could Lucius Malfoy look so bad? He tore the threadbare shirt from his shoulders as he shook his head at his own reflection. How the mighty have fallen.

Lucius shook off his feelings of self loathing and regret and dispatched with the rest of his borrowed clothing. There would be time for introspection later, and time to reclaim his place as the rightful heir to Wizarding Britain, but now was the time to bathe and to sleep. His adrenaline had finally begun to wear off and Lucius started to realize just how weak and how tired he truly was.

The water felt indescribably good as he stepped into the shower. He leaned his head against the cool marble wall as the near-scalding hot water ran down his very sore and stiff back. He could barely stand up. How was it that he had managed to go the whole night? Lucius reached out and took hold of the bar of soap, the smell of sandalwood wafting pleasantly to his nostrils as he lathered the bar in his hands.

Lucius took his time washing, lathering and rinsing every part of himself until he began to feel clean. He shampooed his hair three times before he was satisfied and figured he'd do so again in the morning. In fact, he was only beginning to feel clean, but he was overwhelmed with feeling sore and exhausted, afraid, and depressed. Lucius shut off the water and reached for his towel, still hanging on the bar adjacent to the shower; waiting for him in the same manner as his soap and shampoo had been.

Toweling himself off quickly, Lucius wrapped the soft chenille around his waist. It was strange, this feeling of soft fabric against his sensitive skin. The months spent wearing threadbare wool and sleeping on a hard cot had left raw patches on his skin; the chenille might as well have been the first softness he had ever felt. Lucius was pleased that the mirror had steamed over while he was showering. He had bruises, he knew, and sores, but hadn't the slightest inclination as to dealing with them now. He knew, however, that his own vanity might have changed his mind had he gotten a look.

Grabbing his wand and putting the lights out, he stepped back into the bedroom. It took a moment for his eyes to re adjust to darkness, but once they had Lucius moved quietly toward his closet. He entertained the notion of pausing at Narcissa's vanity to borrow her hairbrush; he had given it to her as an engagement present and it was enchanted to dry the hair it brushed instantly. He found, though, that he had neither the energy nor the patience to do anything more than tiptoe into the closet in search of suitable sleepwear.

Lucius shook his head as soon as he could see inside of the giant closet-cum-dressing room. A pair of his black silk boxer shorts, the kind he preferred to sleep in on summer nights, had been laid out on the settee for him. Whether it had been Narcissa's doing, or his elves', Lucius didn't care. He did wonder for a moment if this had been done every night in his absence or as a response to his earlier visit to the manor. But it didn't matter; not really. He was home now, and everything was where it was supposed to be.

Including his beloved Narcissa; she was sound asleep in their bed with the comforters pulled up around her shoulders. He wanted to run to her, to fall in to her, to bury his head in her chest and tell her how sorry he was. She shouldn't have had to live more than a year alone. She should not have had to abide the sneers and the stares and the harsh treatment from others that he was sure his incarceration had cost her. He could never repay her the debt he had incurred by his absence and yet she had come eagerly into his embrace and tearfully declared her love to him just hours ago. How she could still love him after all that he had put her through, Lucius would never know. But he did know that he owed her at least a good night's sleep. He would not wake her; not to apologize, not even to kiss her cheek. He had said before that there would be time; and there would be. Tonight he would take the comfort that he could in her presence and her breathing, and the peace he could only hope she had in her dreams.

He dressed quickly and, leaving his wand in the closet, made his way back through the room to the far side of the bed. It had been turned down and his pillows fluffed the same as always. His soap, his clothes, and now the bed… his home was waiting for him as though he had only been gone for the evening.

When his hands first came to the heavy down blankets, Lucius felt his breath catch in his throat. He hadn't had a blanket in more than a year, and it struck him how odd the combination of softness and weight felt in his hands. Would he even be able to sleep on a mattress? He shook his head and dismissed the thought. Maybe it would feel strange at first, but Lucius was sure that he was tired enough to fall asleep just about anywhere.

Careful not to disturb Narcissa, Lucius peeled back the comforters and sat down on the edge of the bed. He slid his feet beneath the covers and let himself pause to enjoy the feeling of the silk of the sheets on his bare legs. A sigh escaped his lips as he slid further into his bed and pulled the covers up over his chest. The comforters felt heavy, but not confining as he had feared they might. Lucius felt somehow safer swaddled here in his bed between the silk of the sheets and within the heavy down of the comforters. He might sleep well at that.

"You're home," he heard a sleepy Narcissa whisper to him. She reached out a hand and touched his arm, as though she needed tangible confirmation of what her eyes were telling her.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said to her. Lucius settled his head on his pillow and took hold of his wife's hand with both of his.

"I wasn't really sleeping," she answered. "I wanted to wait for you."

"You need your rest, love," he said. She hadn't looked well when he had come in earlier. She was thin and pale and he was more than a little worried about her. Not that he figured he looked any better; or that she would be any less worried about him. Still, his absence had meant a dereliction in his ability to look after the health and happiness of his wife and he meant to remedy that immediately.

"Not as much as I need you," she said back, scooting herself to the edge of her pillow and pulling his hands to her face, kissing his fingers one at a time. Lucius leaned over and kissed his wife on her forehead. "Draco…?" she asked him hesitantly, hopeful eyes looking up at him. Lucius nodded his head and managed half a smile.

"He's in his rooms," Lucius answered her. "Probably sound asleep by now. We'll see him at breakfast." Narcissa smiled at that; her bright and genuine smile that brought a tear to her husband's eye. Narcissa moved the hand that wasn't already touching Lucius to his face, stroking his jaw and then his still-damp hairline.

"I love you," she said to him. Lucius moved himself closer to her, so close that he could feel the warmth of her body on the blankets and the lace at the hem of her nightgown tickled at his thighs. He let go of her hand and ran his fingers through her hair, letting his touch linger on her back for a moment before repeating the action. Narcissa sniffled and moved closer still, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

"I love you," He sighed, wrapping his own arms around her and holding her to him as tightly as he could. Narcissa loosed her grip on him slightly and brought her face to his. He kissed her then, as passionately as his fear and fatigue would allow him to. She slid her hands from his neck to his back, pressing into his skin with her fingertips and using him as leverage to pull herself even closer to him. She wrapped her leg over his and, without letting go of his lips, rolled the both of them until he was practically on top of her.

Her hands were everywhere; in his hair, on his back, his arms, his chest. Lucius felt his own need to touch her in turn. Her legs were smooth as he ran his hand up over her hip and onto the thin silk of her nightgown. He was kissing her mouth, her face, her neck…. She was still every bit as beautiful and as alluring as she had ever been. But when she whispered, "make love to me," in to his ear, Lucius felt his breath seize in his chest.

He had no idea whether his bruised, exhausted, and malnourished body was even capable of experiencing pleasure, much less giving it. But he could no more deny her this than he could chop off his own arm. He answered her with another kiss and his hands on the hem of her gown, moving it up over her hips and pulling her body flush against his. Narcissa wasn't wearing anything under the flimsy silk of her brief negligee and Lucius' fingers just brushed against the tiny curls at the apex of her thighs. He was delighted in that moment that his body was, in fact, able to respond to her desire.

He let his kisses move to her neck, to her collarbone, to the edge of the lace that covered her breasts. Narcissa shuddered beneath his lips and he heard her gasp as his fingers slid up her body and found her breasts. Her hands went to his waist and tugged at the fabric there until it gave, sliding his pants from his hips and allowing his now throbbing erection to brush against her skin.

He shifted in her arms until he was entirely poised on top of her, reveling in the feel of the heat of her arousal on his cock as he lay against her. Lucius brought his hands to the straps of her night gown and slid them from her shoulders, exposing her breasts. His whole body jolted at the sight. He remembered her as beautiful, but there was nothing in his own mind that could compare to the sight of her erect nipples as she arched her back toward him.

He brought his lips to her breasts, one and then the other, feeling his own ache rise as she ground her hips against him, begging silently for him to enter her. Lucius couldn't stand it any longer; he kissed her again, tenderly, as he brought his hands to her hips. Her hands were in his hair and he felt her moan into his mouth as he pressed himself inside her.

He hadn't remembered that there was such a thing as feeling this good. She was hot and tight and wet and her whole body tensed brilliantly against him. Lucius couldn't stop himself but move against her. She was rocking her hips in rhythm with his immediately, gasping and moaning in turn as he pulled his mouth from hers. Her legs wrapped around his waist as her hands came to rest against his back.

It was in an instant that Lucius felt himself lose control entirely as his orgasm overtook him. His eyes grew wide with surprise as he shuddered, still inside her, gasping for breath and shaking on his arms as he tried not to collapse. Narcissa's breathing was still ragged as she brought her hands to his shoulders and pulled him down to lie on top of her. He rested his head against her heaving breast and let himself enjoy the feeling of her hands in his hair and her kisses on the crown of his head.

"I'm sorry," he managed in a ragged whisper. He hadn't meant for that to be over so quickly. He felt like a disappointment, a failure. He had come back to her only to deny her desires even as he endeavored to sate them.

"Shhh," she said back to him, petting his brow with trembling fingers, "don't." Lucius lifted his head as best he could to look her in her moist eyes. "I love you," she whispered. Narcissa wrapped her arms around her husband's neck again and pulled him tightly against her.

"Cissa…" he began. He had a million things to say to her: 'thank you' and 'I love you' chief among them, but his brain was addled with lack of sleep and his body was still shaking from the force of his orgasm.

"Shhh," she sounded again. "We can talk in the morning. Sleep now," she added. Lucius took a deep breath and shifted away from her, reaching to the foot of the bed where his pants were still tangled around his left ankle. Narcissa slipped the straps of her night gown back over her shoulders as Lucius tugged his boxers back up around his waist. Laying his head again on his pillow, Lucius sighed and looked at his wife.

She was smiling at him. Lucius inclined his head toward her in a well known gesture inviting her to come closer. She came eagerly into his arms and lay her head on his welcoming shoulder. "Welcome home, darling," she whispered, settling into his embrace.

"It's good to be home," he answered as he pulled the covers up over the both of them. "Sweet dreams my love," he added, kissing her gently on the top of her head. Narcissa sniffled again.

"Good night, Lucius," she whispered to him, her face buried in his chest.

That it was.

FIN

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So that was just a little taste of juice... but there will be more to come. I have a textboox, ya know. ;) As always reviews keep me alive...

-MQ


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